


black coffee, white lies

by nekrateholic



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, loose uni au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 17:23:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17084519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/pseuds/nekrateholic
Summary: Like most fairytales, Junhui has a curse, some feelings and a dead plant.





	black coffee, white lies

**Author's Note:**

  * For [suwungcheol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/suwungcheol/gifts).



> hi,  
> so... this fic had a million different plotlines, characters, worlds and i'm still not sure if this is even remotely close to what you wanted but. well  
> i hope you like your gift anyway <3

It’s cold and it’s dark, even though it’s smack in the middle of the day. A few months ago, this would be the exact time Junhui would be sweating his soul out, hating the world outside because it’s not socially acceptable to maybe take your skin off, in hopes of a little refuge from the heat.

He still hates the world outside, even though it’s very much socially acceptable to wrap yourself in thirty layers of wool to keep the chill away.

Junhui slips into the café he’s supposed to meet Jeonghan at, sighing at the warm temperature  inside. The smell of coffee envelops him like a hug and he takes a moment to just enjoy the moment. 

“I find it extremely amusing,” Jeonghan says when Junhui sits across him on the tiny table, fingers curled around a chai latte (because of course Jeonghan’s early), “how you like the smell of coffee so much more than coffee itself.”

“I’m aware,” Junhui mumbles, unwrapping his scarf. It’s more of a blanket, really. “This is why I have trust issues! How can it smell so good and then taste… like that…”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “Just because you’re weak.”

“Excuse you-” Junhui starts. Jeonghan makes a point of raising his black coffee. Junhui knows there’s not even a hint of sugar in there. He pretends to gag. “That’s why you have no soul. You burned it with this hell concoction.”

“Drama queen,” Jeonghan mumbles, sipping on his coffee. He doesn’t even flinch. Seems to enjoy it, even. No wonder half the campus is terrified of him, Junhui thinks.

“Why aren’t you more like Seungcheol,” Junhui sighs, cradling his cup. “He’s actually nice to me.”

“Ah yes,” Jeonghan grins. “The tragic story of your unrequited heart boner for your potentially straight roommate. A+ romcom material. Sometimes it still amazes me how well you fit being a theatre major.”

Junhui rolls his eyes. “Shut up, there are no heart boners going on and you know this.”

Jeonghan raises an eyebrow. “Do I?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol does make warm things happen in the pit of Junhui’s stomach when there are coffee and breakfast ready most days when he wakes up for classes, even though Seungcheol gets up at least two hours earlier than him for work.

(Junhui still doesn’t have the heart to tell him that he likes his coffee with more milk than actual caffeine and dutifully dumps most coffees on the plant Jeonghan gave him for Christmas. Somehow, he feels guilty to just throw Seungcheol’s lovely gesture into the sink, or worse, the bathroom. And anyway, the plant is almost dead at this point, just like Jeonghan’s soul.)

“Yes, you do.” Junhui states, voice even. He flips his laptop open, effectively ending the conversation. They’re supposed to be studying anyway.

*

The thing with Seungcheol is that, well. Junhui is ridiculously weak when it comes to him. He’s aware he’d probably do a lot of things he wouldn’t normally do if it was Seungcheol who asked. Junhui’s used to that, people needing him for certain things only - being nice, all sweet and lovable. He knows now, it’s only on the surface, it’s always that one thing they want. That Junhui is used to. Indulges it, even, if he’s in the right mood.

Except Seungcheol never asks for anything, and it’s fucking with Junhui’s head.

_ The thing with Junhui _ , according to his mom, is that he likes fairytales a tad bit too much. He grew up with piles of colorful books around him, knows the stories by heart. There’s the prince and there’s the princess. There’s the evil witch and whatever obstacles she puts in the path of true love. 

Junhui tried finding that, the true love, once. But that was  _ after. _

Because the one thing that even Jeonghan doesn’t know is that, well. Junhui may or may not be cursed. And not even the metaphorical kind - the brightly-patterned-scarves, crystal-ball-waving type of curse.

There was this old lady living next door when Junhui was young. She was an old, grumpy thing that, like he learned the hard way, hated cats.

If that’s not a sign of evil, Junhui doesn’t know what is.

What happened was that Candy, his family’s cat, had the misfortune of jumping over the fence and into old Mrs Lee’s house. Candy was a big, white Persian, named so after an age-five Junhui utilized his newly bought water paint to color all her fluffy fur pink. He’d only gotten away with a couple of scratches or so, which, honestly, just serves as proof of what an angel Candy was.

But even angel cats do dumb things, apparently, because one day Candy just climbed the stone fence and dove straight into Mrs Lee’s overgrown garden, despite ten-year-old Junhui’s horrified screams of  _ Candy, no!!! _

Mrs Lee was out in her garden when that happened. Junhui, just barely tall enough to peek over the fence, asked if she could give Candy back with as much politeness as his fear of Mrs Lee would let him. The answer was no. It was also followed by  _ You’re never getting that hellish creature back, it’ll just rot away in my garden forever. _

In retrospect, Mrs Lee was a very old woman and Candy was at the peak of her youth even if her self-preservation skills were slightly questionable. She would’ve probably returned on her own eventually, except that’s not what ten-year-old Junhui’s first instinct was.

What he did, naturally, was run crying to his mom.

She took him by the hand and went over to Mrs Lee’s house, had some stern adult words which Junhui didn’t care to remember, too busy hiding behind his mom’s legs. It involved something about how old Mrs Lee didn’t understand children, or love, or both. That was about the same time Candy emerged from the bushes, dirt covering most of her paws and a few stray leaves tangled in the fur of her back. She butted her head in Junhui’s legs, he picked it up and with a few final words, just as stern, he and his mom went back home.

And then old Mrs Lee yelled the words that still haunt Junhui’s dreams, ten years later.

_ I hope you never find this love you claim I don’t have! _

His mom and dad already had each other, Junhui thinks now. It was just natural that the full force of the curse would fall on him.

*

Because, when it comes down to it, Jeonghan is right, like he always is. Not that Junhui will ever say that out loud. 

But Junhui’s dating history is right there, along with the curse, a bright neon proof as to why exactly this is a terrible idea.

So far, in Junhui’s experience, him dating has had exactly two outcomes: either the person is a jerk and Junhui is the one broken and crying in the end or… Or somehow, even if it’s the last thing he’d ever want for anyone, Junhui becomes the jerk.

Case in point: that guy in high school who made out with him on the hood of his car, under a particularly beautiful night sky full of stars. Junhui was convinced he was ready to scoop all those stars off the sky as an offer to him. In the end, the guy announced to the entire class that Junhui is (completely unrequitedly, of course) in love with him, just because Junhui refused to actually go down on him.

There were boys after him, girls too. Some of them were better, some of them were worse. There was, of course, that one time - Jieqiong, Junhui could actually see a future with. But then graduation happened, dragging the university myth behind it. Who really wants to keep a high school romance when you live halfway across the country for two thirds of the year? Jieqiong was nice enough to pretend she was okay with it and in turn, Junhui pretended he didn’t see the makeup smudges in the corners of her eyes. A few months later he learned she’s dating again, some girl her age, that they’re happy. He never really learned her name, though, because it was hard enough as it is to keep his own smudges in check.

The point is, Junhui’s relationships are a disaster and Seungcheol… Seungcheol is golden.

(At this point, he’s not sure what he fears more - Seungcheol becoming like the others or his own horrific luck somehow ruining something that hasn’t even begun.)

It’s just not meant to be.

*

Seungcheol keeps trying to prove him wrong, though.

Junhui isn’t even sure he’s aware of just how goddamn nice he is. Is he doing it on purpose? Is he trying to get into Junhui’s… pants? Although with all the coffees and smiles and cuddles when Seungcheol is home and Junhui whines about being cold, well. It seems more like it’s his heart Seungcheol is aiming for. Or maybe he’s just a nice person in general.

(Or a deceiving, double-faced asshole and this time it’ll be Junhui alone and broken in the corner of his room.)

Whatever the case is, the fact is this: Seungcheol is awake at 8 a.m. on his day off, a full two hours before Junhui has to drag himself to class. There is a stack of pancakes which he presents to Junhui with a bright, cheery  _ Ta-da! _ Junhui blinks slowly, trying to process the picture. He’s not quite awake yet but it seems Seungcheol  _ is, _ enough for both of them.

It’s not necessarily unusual. Seungcheol mostly has day shifts - on a normal day, he’d already be on his way to work. Except, Junhui knows for a fact that Seungcheol had a late shift last night. He’d woken up when Seungcheol came home around 2 a.m., puttered around the apartment for another half an hour before the sound of his bedroom door closing echoed down the hallway.

Now it’s 8 a.m. and there are pancakes. Junhui blinks some more, then shuffles over to Seungcheol and gives him a hug. Partly because he’s too sleepy to know better, partly because, frankly, Seungcheol gives the best hugs.

(The pancakes aren’t the best. At all. They’re sort of edible, though, and Junhui isn’t a theatre kid for nothing. Jeonghan’s plant eats another coffee while Seungcheol is in the bathroom but its drooping leaves are absolutely worth it for the smile Junhui is rewarded with afterwards.)

*

“I killed your plant.” Junhui states as he places a coffee in front of Jeonghan the next time they see each other. “The one you gave me for Christmas.”

“You’re definitely not ready for kids, then,” Jeonghan says, completely unfazed. He doesn’t refuse the coffee, though. Junhui wonders what Jeonghan’s mini-greenhouse of a bedroom means in that case.

“No,” he argues. “I killed it because Seungcheol keeps making me coffee before he goes to work and I feel bad to throw it away.”

Jeonghan puts his cup down, slow, eyes trained on Junhui. “You pour Seungcheol’s coffee into the plant.” Junhui nods. He expects Jeonghan to make some stupid, teasing remark because that’s what Jeonghan does. Except this time, Jeonghan’s eyes soften. He pushes his coffee away and reaches to cup Junhui’s hand across the table, holding it for a brief few seconds. “Baby,” he says, in that voice Junhui has heard him use on his  _ plants. _ “That’s not healthy.”

“Obviously,” Junhui scoffs. “I did just say I killed your plant.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “You did kill my plant and I’ll never let you live that down. If that’s the kind of talk you’ll respond to, though, then you need to sort out your Seungcheol drama for the sake of world peace.”

“This is hardly a matter of world peace,” Junhui says, pointedly ignoring the rest of the sentence. Don’t try to fix what isn't broken, or whatever. The thing being broken  _ but working _ counts too.

“It’s a matter of  _ my  _ peace.” Jeonghan states. “Which is the same.” He pushes the cup of coffee away, then. It’s almost entirely full. Jeonghan raises an eyebrow at Junhui’s questioning look. “I don’t feel like coffee right now. Wanna come over? I’ve been trying to master one of those 5-second Instagram recipes for hot chocolate; you’ll be a great guinea pig. We can make use of that bag of Disney movies Seokmin forgot last time we had a movie night.”

“There’s the internet.” Junhui deadpans. “And won’t Minghao mind? I mean,” he hurries to elaborate, “I won’t be messing with your alone time or whatever?”

“Are you kidding me?” Jeonghan snorts. “Sometimes I think he likes you more than he likes me.”

“Please don’t make out during the movie,” Junhui pleads. Third-wheeling isn’t fun.  _ Fourth- _ wheeling is even less fun because Hansol tends to be about as subtle as a freight train. He’s visiting his family at the moment, though, so there’s that, at least.

Jeonghan’s grin is slow and  _ scary. _ “No promises.”

*

There's little in this life that a good ol’ Disney marathon can't fix. Junhui leaves Jeonghan’s apartment in an infinitely better mood than he entered it and all the cartoon birds singing about happy endings make him feel hopeful about his own. The witch is defeated, the prince saves the princess, good prevails - it’s not that hard. Junhui wonders which his role in this fairytale is. He’d like to think he’s on the good side, except he doesn't exactly feel like a damsel in distress. There’s no one in need of saving, either, even if he has the evil witch part of the story down.

Maybe he should write his own fairytale, then.

It starts drizzling on his way home, the rain turning into a downpour mere minutes after he closes his front door.

Which is about the time he hears the voices.

One is Seungcheol but Junhui already knew he’s not working today. It may or may not be part of the reason he accepted Jeonghan’s offer in the first place.

The other, though. The other he’s never heard before.

Junhui has to pass through the kitchen to get to his room whether he likes it or not.

Seungcheol and the new person are huddled together on the kitchen table, papers and books and notebooks haphazardly strewn around them. They both look up when Junhui enters and the sunniest smile blooms on Seungcheol’s lips. The stranger blinks at him. It’s a boy, and one Junhui is pretty sure he’s seen around campus - dark hair, guarded eyes, cheekbones that can probably be used as a weapon in an alternate universe.

“Hey, I thought you’d be home sooner,” Seungcheol beams, shuffling some of the papers over. “This is Wonwoo, he came over to help me with my poetry assignment.” Wonwoo nods at him and Junhui nods back. Idly, he wonders why Seungcheol never introduced  _ him. _ “All the classes I missed for work are catching up with me, it seems.”

“Yeah,” Junhui says, too fixated on the Wonwoo person to properly process any conversation. “I was at Jeonghan’s.”

“Cool,” Seungcheol says. If Junhui were slightly less distracted, maybe he would’ve noticed the frown both on Seungcheol’s face and in his voice. “I left some dinner for you in the microwave,” he continues.

“Don’t be fooled, he cooked it.” Mr Tall, Dark and Handsome finally speaks and Junhui is somewhat startled by the sound. God, even his voice is hot. “It would probably best if you took it out as toxic waste.”

_ Hey,  _ Seungcheol says at the same time Junhui blurts, “I actually like his cooking.”

He doesn’t, not really. But he’ll be dead before he lets someone else put Seungcheol’s down for his cooking.

“Huh,” Wonwoo says, voice full with wonder. They’re all silent for a few long, long moments. Junhui has had his fair share of awkward moment in his two decades of life but this one seems to take the cake.

“I’ll… be in my room, if you need me. See you,” he mutters and speedwalks his way to said room before anyone has the chance to actually need him.

They seem to be doing great on their own anyway.

*

In reality, Junhui knows there’s probably nothing between them. Probably. At the very least, he’s ninety percent sure Seungcheol would tell him if he’s dating someone.

It’s just that… Wonwoo is hot. Seungcheol is just as hot and it would make sense. And they might not be dating right now but they  _ could  _ and there would be nothing to stop them, not really. It’s not jealousy Junhui is feeling, per se. It’s the distance between him and what he wants and that shouldn’t be a real feeling, except it is. It feels like sulfur making its way through his body, damaging his organs beyond recognition.

And what he wants is Seungcheol. Junhui’s ready to admit that now - apparently all it took was the sight of a hot stranger in Seungcheol’s general vicinity. In their kitchen.

Junhui wonders if it’s a fairytale he’s living in, or a shitty Hollywood drama.

*

The storm rages through the night, rain rarely letting up for more than fifteen minutes at a time. It drums on Junhui’s windows and where normally that would only lull him to sleep, right now it only serves as a disturbance, every little noise making his body jerk awake each time he manages to drift off.

It’s an excuse, really. He can’t get his brain to stop working.

He thinks about the boy who broke his heart in high school, name long since forced into oblivion. Thinks about the barely concealed hope in Jieqiong’s eyes years ago, thinks that maybe,  _ maybe  _ it could’ve been different if he tried. Because of the curse.

Now that Junhui thinks about it, he doesn’t really remember the old lady next door having a crystal ball or brightly patterned scarves. She was kind of boring, actually, all plain colors and hand-knitted hats. She was an asshole, definitely, and she scared the shit out of Junhui at ten but in the end, she was just an old asshole, incapable of human affection.

And Junhui was just a teenager with a shitty taste in boys. And then he gave up.

*

He gives up trying to sleep around three a.m. Tossing and turning is getting really old really fast. His bones weigh with exhaustion, sheets tangled and kicked off even though it's cold. That, coupled with the unchanging sight of his ceiling and sheer frustration - honestly, Junhui is this close to crying. 

Might as well make a cup of tea or something. Crying in bed at three in the morning, during a storm, nonetheless - a hard no. His story might not be a fairytale but he won't let it be  _ that _ kind of a movie either.

The lights in their tiny hallway are off but the door to Seungcheol’s room is wide open, every light on. Same probably goes for the kitchen because Junhui can see the light peeking through the sliver of empty space under the door.

When he opens it, Seungcheol is just sitting there, elbows propped on their table. He’s cradling a steaming mug (Junhui’s mug?) in his hands. There’s a blanket wrapped around his shoulders, too, and he doesn’t seem to notice Junhui, too busy staring holes into the flowers on their shitty wallpaper.

“Hey,” Junhui says and Seungcheol startles, almost dropping the mug in his hands. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“It’s okay,” Seungcheol’s voice is soft, except it’s different than his usual softness. There’s tiredness to it that Junhui suspects has little to do with the hour. Still, Seungcheol smiles at him. “I can’t fall asleep.”

“Same,” Junhui replies with a smile of his own. There’s another crackle of thunder outside, louder this time. For a second it seems like the apartment is shaking with it. And then Junhui notices - Seungcheol is shivering. Despite the heating he can feel is cranked up at its highest, despite the blanket wrapped around Seungcheol’s shoulders. “You’re scared.” he says.

“No,” Seungcheol hurries to deny, fervently shaking his head. There’s another crackle and this time, his entire body flinches. “I’m just… cold.”

“Okay,” Junhui agrees. He offers a hand and Seungcheol takes it with no hesitation. “Wanna watch a movie then? We can cuddle on the couch, sharing warmth and all that.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol echoes. He squeezes Junhui’s hand a tad bit tighter.

*

There’s this tender sliver of time, somewhere between late at night and early morning, Junhui knows. It’s the time where everything feels possible and within reach. Like he could pull the smog like a curtain and pluck one of the pretty stars under it if he just reached out the window, up towards the sky. Same goes for people, and the magic keeps the thoughts about consequences, of shame and anxiety at bay. In this tiny, tiny sliver of time they do not exist. Nothing does, except for endless possibilities.

Junhui feels them passing through his soul, knows there’s not much time left. He can feel Seungcheol’s heartbeat under his fingers, the movie nothing but a white noise in the background. In a moment, the magic will be gone and he’ll be back to dumping coffees on Jeonghan’s plant and staring at the ceiling while the storm rages outside.

It’s  _ that  _ time, and Junhui says, “I think I might be in love with you.”

And the magic is gone.

He can feel Seungcheol’s heartbeat pick up, almost rivalling Junhui’s own in its slamming in his ribcage. 

“I know,” Seungcheol mumbles a few long, long seconds later. He shuffles, tries to straighten up but Junhui presses his lips into his hair, keeping him still. 

“Please stay like this,” he begs. The magic is gone and he’s not ready to face the consequences it was hiding. “Maybe,” he says a bit later, “tomorrow this will be just a dream. There will only be the remnants of the storm, and cuddling, and the electricity bill for the TV being on all night.”

Seungcheol stops moving but his fingers lace with Junhui’s. “I don’t want it to be a dream, though.”

And just like that, the magic is back again, real this time, maybe. Hope feels like blooming flowers in Junhui’s heart. Seungcheol squeezes his hand again and settles against him.

*

In the end, Junhui’s not entirely sure what fairytale his life is. There’s no princess, there’s no prince either. No one was in distress, no one needed saving. No castles and stone towers poking at the sky either.

There’s just Junhui and Seungcheol in their shitty apartment with the shitty flower pattern wallpapers. And the dead plant reeking of coffee.

There’s no neat little bow tying the ending credits but they have a new plant now and Junhui waters it with actual water this time, so it will have to do.


End file.
